


Trust Fund, Baby!

by Goddess47



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 00:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess47/pseuds/Goddess47
Summary: Shitty had been sad, but in an abstract way. He -- mostly -- understood about death, and he knew Grandmama wasn't coming back. But mostly she was one more adult who couldn't help him.Until she did.





	Trust Fund, Baby!

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to submit the core of this as a prompt to "shitty-check-please-aus" but then it grew in my head and, well, here it it... I think this is some of my new head-canon for Shitty.

Shitty always knew from a young age that Grandmama had set up a trust fund for him. He only had vague memories of her, she had died just before his seventh birthday.

But she always had a sense of whimsy that was unique in his family. 

His last clear memory of her was a late night when she and his father had a down-and-dirty shouting match. He was supposed to be in bed, but he wanted to tell her something -- whatever it was, it was long forgotten -- and had crept downstairs to see her.

"Let him go!" Grandmama had shouted. "You're killing him here!"

"He is my son, and he will do his duty to this family!" Father had countered.

"You're suffocating a bright young man!" Grandmama had said. "He is not you, he never will be. You should just let him be himself."

"Maybe you should leave," Father had said grimly. "Go home and leave us be."

"Will you let him visit?" Grandmama had demanded. "Will you let him out of this mausoleum?"

Father had hesitated.

"That's my answer," she had sighed. "You're driving him away and you're going to be sorry!"

"He's my son," Father had repeated.

Shitty must have made a noise, they stopped and looked at him. Grandmama had come over to where he was lurking and taken him back to bed.

"I have to go away for a while," she had said gently. She tucked him in and placed a warm kiss on his forehead. "Just remember that I'll always be there for you."

But she wasn't. She died unexpectedly of an aneurism less than six months later.

Shitty had been sad, but in an abstract way. He -- mostly -- understood about death, and he knew Grandmama wasn't coming back. But mostly she was one more adult who couldn't help him.

It wasn't until he was seventeen that a lawyer contacted him about the trust fund. He almost didn't go, but when he asked, the meeting was just for him and did not include his parents. He suspected they didn't even know about the meeting and he didn't ask.

For some reason, Shitty wore dress slacks and a nice shirt -- his clothing choices were something his parents had given up arguing with him about. 

"Mr. Knight, good to meet you." The lawyer had shook his hand and offered him a beverage. 

"Shitty," Shitty had said, reflexively, then winced. "Sorry, just... _Mr. Knight_ is my father."__

The lawyer had grinned. "Shitty, then. I'm Brad -- and I couldn't make that up if I tried," he said. "Your Grandmother had despaired of my name, but it's who I am." 

"I suspect Grandmama would have had a good laugh about that," Shitty agreed with a smile.

Brad had explained about his trust fund from Grandmama. "She had insisted that if she had passed before your eighteenth birthday, that you would have access to the fund when you turned eighteen. Normally, we try to encourage some limitations, but she insisted that you have full access on your eighteenth birthday. She wanted to make sure that you could do what you wanted, without being dependent on your family."

"O-o-o-o-kay...." Shitty replied.

"Your eighteenth birthday is in another month, and you will have full and unlimited access to the trust fund," Brad said. "And your grandmother made sure this was separate from her estate. Your parents don't know more than the fact that there is a trust and that it will be yours. We cannot talk to them about it. In fact, your father had been making inquiries about it recently, and he was... disappointed, shall we say, when we told him that he had no access to any information about your trust."

"Good to know," Shitty replied. Knowing the information was protected would make it easier for him to not have to deal with his parents.

"What kind of a fund is it?" Shitty asked. He -- reluctantly -- knew more about investments than most. Money was the family business after all.

"It's pretty diversified and has been making money over the past few years. Your grandmother was uncannily good in investing money and making it work for her," Brad replied. "We'll be glad to assist you with any changes you may want to make."

"I assume you have a portfolio for me," Shitty said.

"I do," Brad replied. He handed over a folder. "There's a letter for you from your Grandmother in there, also. Would you like a few minutes?"

"Please," Shitty said, looking down at the portfolio.

"I'll check on you in a bit," Brad promised. He left Shitty alone in the office.

The sealed envelope had a handwritten "B" on the outside. It was high school before he started calling himself 'Shitty' but she also knew how much he hated his name, and settled on just calling him 'B' as a compromise.

_B---_

_I'm so sorry... if you're reading this, I've died and left you alone with your family. That's a horrid thing for a grandmother to say, but it's true._

_I really hope you haven't changed that much, if nothing else, that you've found a name you can be happy with, since the abomination your father gave you annoyed you to no end. I don't know how my son became such a humorless drone. I know I should set a better example for you, but we've always been honest._

_In spite of his name, you can trust Brad with anything you need. He's a good soul and understands that sometimes family is what you make it, not what you're given._

_Go and find that family. _

_I miss you and will always love you..._

_\--Grandmama_

Shitty teared up.

"Oh, Grandmama," Shitty said softly. "I didn't know until just now how much I missed you." 

_ _He put the letter aside for the moment and started looking through the portfolio. He started reading through the various investments. He understood most of it, but there were details that were beyond his expertise. He figured Brad could explain whatever he needed information on._ _

_ _He leafed through the folder and came to the summary page. He stared._ _

_ _At that point, Brad poked his head into the room._ _

_ _"Do you need more time?" Brad asked._ _

_ _"Ummm... this last page..." Shitty pointed. "That's the current value?"_ _

_ _Brad came in and peered over Shitty's shoulder. _ _

_ _"Yes, it is," he said._ _

_ _"I... I never expected that," Shitty said softly._ _

_ _"Your grandmother thought a lot of you and wanted to do what she could for you," Brad said. "She told us that she wanted to make sure you could do whatever you wanted in life."_ _

_ _"That's the GNP of a small country," Shitty said._ _

_ _"That is one way of looking at it," Brad nodded._ _

_ _"What do I do with it?" Shitty asked, feeling faintly overwhelmed._ _

_ _"Whatever you want," Brad replied._ _

_ _"Okay, I need to think about this," Shitty said. _ _

_ _"Not a problem," Brad replied. "Keep the folder and when you have questions, please feel free to ask."_ _

_ _Shitty didn't go home, he went to a skating rink. Hockey had allowed him to be independent from his parents, needing to go to practice and games that they never came to. But being on a sports team was an 'acceptable' excuse to his parents._ _

_ _Fuck. He didn't _want_ the responsibility that much money required. He knew that Brad -- well, his firm -- would do all the heavy lifting, but it was up to him to decide what to do with it._ _

_ _On his eighteenth birthday, he went back to Brad and made sure he had enough liquid funds to pay his college tuition and to give himself some spending money. _ _

_ _Having his own money let him choose where he wanted to go to college and study whatever he wanted, something his father would have held over his head. _ _

_ _Choosing Samwell was mostly a no-brainer. They had a Division I hockey team that he was confident he could make, and the liberal environment would horrify his parents endlessly._ _

_ _Shitty had to work his ass off to make the hockey team. Luckily, he had fallen into an easy friendship with Jack Zimmerman, who evidently was already a hockey legend, and Jack helped Shitty up his game to the point that he was on the team as a walk-on freshman. He didn't play a lot of minutes, not as many as Jack did, but he learned a lot and practiced hard. His outrageous name and attitude made him popular among the other players, and he made friends among his team-mates._ _

_ _In the Fall of his sophomore year, Shitty had an idea. He talked to Brad, who nodded and promised to look into what he could do._ _

_ _Shitty made an appointment with the Athletic Director and dug out his 'professional' clothes, since he needed to be taken seriously for this to work._ _

_ _"Mr. Knight," the AD welcomed him to his office. Samwell was small enough that the Athletic Director knew most of the players on all of the teams. "What can I do for you?"_ _

_ _"Well, it's more of what I can do for you," Shitty replied. "I'd like to set up a hockey scholarship, with a few stipulations."_ _

_ _The AD sat back in his chair, looking carefully at Shitty. _ _

_ _"Why would you want to do that? And why come to me?" the AD asked._ _

_ _"I know you'll need to get some other people involved, but I wanted to start with you," Shitty replied. "Some of it is that I know there are rules about what kinds of scholarships Samwell can give, because of it's Division I status. I need to make sure you're involved, because if I go to the Foundation, they'll fuck it up. Oh, sorry."_ _

_ _The AD waved a hand. "No, you're right. They would fuck it up." He gave a small laugh. "I fight with them all the time, making sure they follow the NCAA rules."_ _

_ _"I suspected as much," Shitty gave a grin._ _

_ _"What kind of a scholarship are you talking about?" the AD asked._ _

_ _"I'm willing to fund a full scholarship, plus books, each year. In four years, that will be four students, one in each class year," Shitty said. "First one next Fall, then one more each year after that until there are four."_ _

_ _Shitty could see the moment of stunned silence. "Ummm... four _full_ scholarships?"_ _

_ _Shitty nodded. "But I do have a couple of hopefully reasonable requests."_ _

_ _"What are they?" the AD asked._ _

_ _"First of all, it's for hockey, of course," Shitty started. The AD nodded._ _

_ _"Second, I want total anonymity. No one, and I mean, no one who really doesn't absolutely need to know, knows I'm even involved," Shitty outlined. "I know there will have to be a few people who know, but the fewer the better. No press releases, no thank you letters, nothing."_ _

_ _"The Foundation won't be happy with that, but it's do-able," the AD replied._ _

_ _"I'm not involved in the scholarship once it's set up," Shitty went on. "I have lawyers who will do whatever is needed, and they will check on Samwell to make sure there's no abuse. All reports go to them and not to me. Their name is on anything that's needed, not mine. I have nothing to do with selecting the recipient and they don't get to know who funded their scholarship."_ _

_ _"Sounds reasonable," the AD agreed._ _

_ _"Now, I don't know how to word this properly, but I want the scholarship to go someone who might not otherwise be offered a scholarship," Shitty said. "I mean, they have to want to play hockey and have some talent -- someone who can make the team. And, of course, be someone who needs a scholarship. But, maybe someone who doesn't come from a good program, or someone who's a little rough around the edges. Or has an unconventional background." He took a breath. "Does that make sense?"_ _

_ _The AD laughed. "I think so," he replied. "We can work on that. Anything else?"_ _

_ _"We probably should build in a contingency for someone who's red-shirted or injured. The lawyers can work that out," Shitty replied. "But that's the worst of it."_ _

_ _Shitty turned most of the work over to Brad, who worked well with the Athetic Director. Shitty only participated to make sure his requirement of an 'not usual' recipient be written in stone in the agreement._ _

_ _Shitty would have given a lot to see the Athletic Director explain the qualifications to the hockey coaches, but that would have blown his cover. He had to trust in the coaches to do the best they could._ _

_ _~*~*~*~*~*~_ _

_ _"Come on, Jackie boy!" Shitty called. "The Frogs will be here soon!"_ _

_ _"Yuh," Jack replied from his room. "I'm coming."_ _

_ _As they watched the new recruits mill about in the Haus, Jack leaned in and asked, "Were we ever that young?"_ _

_ _Shitty snorted. "You weren't, but yeah, we were!"_ _

_ _Just then, a short-ish blonde came out of the kitchen and asked in a drawling southern accent, "Anyone want some pie?"_ _


End file.
